And a sister… I thought to myself. Tears streaming down my own cheeks. He might not know it yet, and it might be too early to accept it. But in time…
I enveloped them all with my outstretched arms.
In time he will.
Epilogue
KARISSA
“So… everything’s set?”
Bryce walked alongside me, down the carpeted hall we’d walked so many times before. This time we passed through a new door, and into another hallway bustling with people. They pulled luggage carts, left and right. They paused to chat in the alcoves and laugh in the doorways.
“Roderick tells me everyone’s checked in,” he shrugged. “I think there was one couple that was coming in late, but the rest of the guest list is all here and accounted for.”
It was so strange, seeing him all dressed up like this. Black dress slacks. White button down shirt. And a tie! Bryce was actually wearing a tie! It was so adorable I wanted to grab him by it and start kissing him.
“The kitchen’s done prepping?”
“Yes.”
“And the dining room—”
“Is already set, yes. And the cars are all valeted. And the musicians are getting ready. And—”
“Okay, okay,” I said, allowing myself a small sigh of relief. “Looks like you’ve got it covered.”
“You’re damned right I’ve got it covered,” he winked back at me. “Or rather, we. We’ve got it covered.”
We passed a tall window, already swept with snow. Of course we’d get something akin to a mini-blizzard on our opening night.
“The courtyard’s being kept cleared, right?” I asked as we trotted down the grand staircase.
“Every two hours, yes.”
I looked again outside, at how heavy the snow was falling. “Maybe make it an hour an a half.”
Bryce nodded and adjusted his tie. “Camden will be happy to hear that. For some reason he loves running that plow.”
Opening night was more of a trial run, really. We weren’t opening Southhold at full capacity, but with only enough guests to make a splash in the headlines. The dinner party we’d decided to host involved most of the historical societies of coastal Rhode Island, plus a good amount of the press. The press likely to give us good press anyway, according to Roderick.
All that we had to do now was serve a lovely five-course meal, then take people in groups on a late night tour of the manor. That, and make sure the lights stayed on. If we could pull those things off, everything else would fall into place. Hopefully.
“I can’t believe we’re finally done,” Bryce whistled. “To bring this place from what it was to what it is now…”
I’d seen photos of the manor before they’d started working on it. To be honest, they were so bad I would’ve laughed and walked away.
“Those first few years were rough,” he went on. “Really rough.”
“Yeah, well that’s probably because you didn’t have me.”
Bryce smirked. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” I shot back. “Remember, I whipped this place into shape for you guys. I put you on the fast track to…” I swept my arm grandly across the main foyer. “This.”
The breathtaking foyer-turned-lobby was emptying out, as most guests were already on their way to their rooms. We made our way past a few lingering arrivals, on our way to the newly-built front desk.
I can’t believe it’s been two and a half years already!
My God, it seemed so insane! But that’s actually how long I’d been here. That’s how much time had passed since I first dragged my ass down from New Hampshire, without so much as an inkling as to what I’d be doing with the rest of my life.
One and a half years with them.
That part astounded and excited me the most. Getting together with the guys was one thing. It had been fun, spontaneous, deeply romantic. An intense physical attraction that turned a few sparks into a roaring, five-alarm fire.
But staying with them and growing even closer together over the past eighteen months?
Well that had been something even more special.
Eighteen incredible months. Life-changing months.
It was no exaggeration at all. We’d gone from a loving, budding relationship — although a crazy unorthodox one — to an unstoppable foursome. Three men and a woman hellbent on accomplishing anything, including the re-opening of a century-and-a-half old manorhouse that should, by all rights, have met the ass end of a wrecking ball by now.
Instead, we were opening all new ridiculously-polished hallways. Repainted and refinished ballrooms, parlors, and libraries. Lushly decorated rooms complete with modern amenities for guests who wanted the best of both worlds.
And we’d done it all together.
Oh we’d taken some time to stop and smell the roses. A ski weekend at Killington. A five-day trip to Santa Monica, to soak up some of that lovely California sun. But we always returned here, to get straight back to work. To keep the finish work flowing on Southhold manor, while making sure the guys’ construction company — placed temporarily on autopilot — was still running itself.
Except of course, for the week we spent in Saint Kitts.
I glanced down at my finger, and the ring that sparkled there. Three trillion-cut diamonds, arranged in a perfect triangle. One for each of the loves of my life. Representing the three of them.
My heart melted, thinking back to that one legendary night. The night a few months ago, where the guys had taken me for a walk along the beach.
The night where they’d dropped to their knees in the surf, and asked me to marry them.
Of course I’d said yes — in fact, I’d jumped so quickly we almost lost the ring! I knocked it clear out of the redwood box they’d presented it to me in. Together we’d scrambled desperately on our hands and knees, combing the sand before the surf could sweep it away.
Luckily Camden had a good eye, or good enough fortune to come back up with it. Hearts racing, pumped with adrenaline, they’d slid it over my trembling finger…
Then we raced back to our beachfront bungalow, where the guys took turns making love to me as their fiancé for
